March 03, 2009

March 8, 2009 - Second Sunday in Lent

However we define the idea of "identity," it is ingrained in us early on. I remember when I was in pre-school, early elementary school, and I remember when my sister was that age also. I remember what we were taught. "You're unique." "Everyone is special." Early on we become communicating the idea that identity, what defines "me" as "me," is important.

Our identity matters. Ignoring whether or not this should be the case, people with recognizable identities are treated differently, either positively or negatively. A movie star may be bothered in public by fans wanting an autograph or to take a picture with their phone. On the flip side, a famous athlete may be charged with something illegal and either get off or get less punishment where a non-celebrity very well could have been shipped up the creek without a paddle.

Identity matters. Reputation, history, character, values, those things that define us, either to ourselves or to other people, all of it is wrapped up into this idea of identity. And the concept of identity stands right in the middle of our reading from Genesis for this Sunday.

God appears to Abram, who is nearing the century mark in age by this point in the story, and announces God's presence and gives Abram God's identity. "I am El Shaddai. Walk in My ways and be blameless" (Genesis 17:1 TNK).

The meaning of El Shaddai isn't one hundred percent clear. We know that the name "El" was often associated with the supreme god is Semitic religions and came to be used in Hebrew as a general term for a god or to specifically refer to the God of Israel, and is frequently found in Hebrew names (i.e. Israel, Elijah).

But the second part of the name, shaddai, is where we hit the roadblock. The most widely accepted origin of the name that I came up with was from the Akkadian word s(h)adu, which means "mountain" or "range of mountains" (see HALOT 1421). Whatever the name means, however, it is supposed to have some effect. God goes to the trouble to identify God's self beyond just "Hi, I'm God" and instead adds this qualifier of shaddai.

And there's an effect: Abram falls on his face at the identity of the one who is speaking to him. And God makes covenant with Abram, and then proceeds to change Abram's own identity. Abram is now Abraham, and Sarai is now Sarah. The new covenantal relationship alters who Abram and Sarai are and will be, and thus their identities must match their new realities.

Covenant signifies a shift, a change in the relationship, and a change in the lives of those who enter into it. No longer are they Abram and Sarai, but Abraham and Sarah, the people of the covenant. No longer do Abram and Sarai have freedom to do whatever they wish because they are now a covenantal people with El Shaddai, this God that will be God to them and to their descendants.

Being a person for and of God requires a shift from self-identity to an identity that is self-denying in many ways. In Abraham's case, that denial is found in verse 11 which is not a part of our lection: "You shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin, and that shall be the sign of the covenant between Me and you."

Look, I'm a guy; the very idea of circumcision at age 99 makes me cringe in horror; and poor Ishmael, who was circumcised by his father at 13! But God made a gracious move towards humanity and said, "I want to be your God." But then God asked, "But to show your seriousness, I need you to do something in return." Identity with God does not always jive with our own expectations and desires.

There is a paradoxical relationship with identity with God; being on God's side is, unfortunately, not the norm. It goes against this world time and again. God told Abraham, "You're ninety-nine, your wife is barren, but you will have a son by her." And Genesis 17:17 tells us that Abraham laughed. And God replied, "You might think the idea is funny, and I can't blame you. But when it happens, you will name your son 'he laughed,' as a reminder of what I did for you over and against what you thought was possible."

For many people then and now, life with God doesn't make sense; it turns everything we expect on its head. Think of some of the things Jesus taught. "If you want to save your life, lose it, sacrifice it." "Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you." "Blessed are the poor, the meek, the persecuted."

Or how about the prophets? What if Isaiah showed back up on the scene with the same message he had in the 8th century?

[God] shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more (Isaiah 2:4).

Imagine if Isaiah showed up today and said, "Take your tanks and turn them into tractors. Take your war budgets and use them to build schools. Take the resources we use to kill and use them to cure disease and fund hospitals."

How might America respond to a prophet showing up and saying:

Ah, you who make iniquitous decrees, who write oppressive statutes, to turn aside the needy from justice and to rob the poor of my people of their right, that widows may be your spoil, and that you may make the orphans your prey! (Isa.10:1-2).

Would we not scoff? Would we not laugh? Would we not think this person is insane, foolish, if not outright treasonous?

America is supposedly a "Christian country," according to various people out there, or there are

a lot of people that desire us to be a "Christian country." But I look around and I wonder. What about our country identifies us with the crucified Messiah, the ultimate paradox, that life can come out of death itself? I will acknowledge that historically, our values and our laws in this country were rooted in Judeo-Christian ethics. But ethics and values alone does not make a disciple, a person of covenantal living!

A disciple is disciplined in the way of her or his teacher. A disciple emulates their teacher in all things. Having a certain set of values and/or ethics might be a part of discipleship, but that is all it is: a part. Discipleship is something more, something deeper; it is an identity!

Through covenant, through the Torah, through his prophets, through Jesus, God contradicts all that we think we know. The same El Shaddai that spoke to Abram still speaks to the world today calling us into a new identity as a people.

And that is important for those of us in the church: we are a covenant people. Christianity is not a religion of the individual. It is a covenant between a community of faith, the church, and the God revealed in the person, character, teaching, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.

That is why we gather; that is why for centuries, going back to Israel, the faith community has in some way, shape, or form come together to remember and participate in the covenant. From the old Temple and festivals of the kingdom period, to the synagogue of the Exile and through the rabbinic tradition in Judaism, through the formation of the church up until this era, right here, today, those in the covenant of the faithful gather to remember and observe that covenant: that to Abram and to all his descendants, God will be our God.

We live as a covenant people, as Easter people. We remember the covenant this Lent as we move to remember the ultimate act of covenantal relationship, the ultimate paradoxical revelation of God: that out of the death of one, true life can be given to all, and God will be our God and we will be God's people.

Other Theological Web Resources

Recommended Reading

Thomas Cahill: How the Irish Saved Civilization (Hinges of History)Wish I had read this years ago. Fascinating book, providing insight into the life of St. Patrick, and arguing for the positive role Celtic monasticism had in preserving the history and literature of the classical world. Plus, I think that Cahill's observations about Patrick's mission to the Irish also speaks to some of the things the emergent movement is wrestling with in the contemporary church.